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Burn out
May 29, 2006
I think I knew I was burned out this past week when people kept wishing me a happy three day holiday weekend, and I could only laugh.
For me, this so-called “three day weekend” meant more time to throw myself at my writing, more big long chunks of time that I could spend in front of my computer. And more time to realize that I really need a goddamned plan, one that stretches further than a month or three into the future, one that isn’t “if I only sleep four hours a night and drink lots of coke, this will work out” (which has been my plan this spring, and it has worked out, but I think I am losing my mind).
People keep telling me that I have my ducks in a row, that things will work out for me, and this is somewhat true, but shit isn’t going to magically get awesome, it needs me to be proactive. But how, with what intensity, and at what costs are the grand questions, the ones I probably can’t answer until I live it.
Today at a barbeque (socializing, twice this weekend actually) I was scheming with a former-sex worker friend about ways to make cash money using our brilliance and talents and, as she put it, “without selling body parts.” She came up with selling our kidneys, and after I reminded her that not only was it selling body parts, but involved surgery and probably the black market, she looked a little crestfallen and said, “But we wouldn’t have to show our boobs.” And this is burnout for ya - burnout with at least an emotional safety net, burnout while realizing what I can’t and don’t want to do. This at least is progress. But since closing the door of full-time nudity for cash almost a year ago, I’m still wondering - where is the open window? And how come the stack of bills in that window has to be so damned small?
My burnout has many features to it - its not just about showing boobs, its about writing about boobs, its about not having anyone to appreciate my boobs in private, its about the endlessness of projects and worthy causes and the over-giving bleeding-heartness of it all. I gotta get my capitalist hat on (I think its a top hat, like the little dude in Monopoly wears), and I have to practice saying no to things that sound like good ideas (and especially those that don’t).
So, dammit, I just need to get through this week, this essay, this round of editing (isn’t this always the way) and then. And then. Then I will socialize more, I will say no to cool things, I will take care of myself more than just by making fruit smoothies, I will limit my working hours, otherwise my brain will eat itself and it will not be good.
Posted by Dacia at May 29, 2006 09:46 PM
Comments
You now you’re truly burned out when you’d rather show your kidneys than your boobs. Also, if it makes you feel any better, I appreciate your boobs in private… ;-)
Posted by: tdneel at May 29, 2006 10:39 PM
Yeah, there are only so many things you can do for free before you start to realize all those cool projects are eating into that potential money time. Time to relearn how to be greedy? And I think having sex be work or solo only accelerates the burnout process. I know that’s when mine peaked (and having non-work sex helped me find those old boundaries again). Good luck to ya.
Posted by: Sabrina at May 29, 2006 11:18 PM
Could I gently suggest you raise you hands, and step away from the computer for a bit? xoxoxo
Posted by: Viviane at May 29, 2006 11:30 PM
If it makes you feel good, I just lost $65 from my loose currency falling out of my pocket during kinetic action by being drunk during Memorial Day (I should say night). You know how much wanton porn/erotica that could’ve bought? I fuckin’ hate negative serendipity! Grrrrr….get thru this week indeed…
Posted by: Irezumi Kiss at May 30, 2006 08:09 AM
Christ, this sounds like the story of my life.
I was lucky enough to reach my model burnout at the same point as I started making bank as an illustrator. But it’s true- once you get used to naked-girl wages and naked-girl free time, it’s hard to find any gig in the straight world that compares.
Posted by: Molly Crabapple at May 30, 2006 01:38 PM
Funny how your moods kind of mirror mine.
But hey, I appreciate your boobs in private — even if you happen not to be there at the time.
Posted by: Lex at May 30, 2006 05:50 PM
dacia, love, i meant that about our kidneys… we’d be Good Samaritans, and set for a few years, i bet…
or maybe we could sell plaster casts of our boobs?
molly, you in?
xooxoxo
e.
Posted by: eRin at June 2, 2006 12:41 AM
